


Spirit (who cant be broken)

by rangerdanger985



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Bottom John Marston, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Outdoor Sex, Spirits, Top Arthur Morgan, canon dont exist here, or very little plot, rancher john marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerdanger985/pseuds/rangerdanger985
Summary: the mustang has long been held as the iconic horse of the west, difficult to tame and beautiful with its wild spirit, you couldn't break them.what is the true spirit of the west was a horse? and what if by chance John Marston saved its life from a poacher?or:the spirit AU you didn't know you needed.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Kudos: 28





	Spirit (who cant be broken)

**Author's Note:**

> literally, a Spirit AU that I wrote in a couple of days and am finally posting. I blame those in the safe haven discord for encouraging this.
> 
> it's really just an excuse for some sexy times in a field, and that's about it haha so enjoy I guess.

Ranching wasn’t an easy job, not in any of the three years he had been doing it was it easy, but when assholes trespassed on his land it was even more so.

John had a little ranch just outside of black water, beechers hope he called it, a new beginning after his previous life burned down around his ears, quite literally. There wasn’t much he could do by himself, but he got by well enough.

When things got tight, he got resourceful, as his life had taught him to be before he settled down. As such he had no problems shooting any assholes that tried to make his life difficult, either by stealing his few cattle, rustling his horses, or straight up trying to rob him.

It was a peaceful life he led for the most part, but it was also a lonely life.

Maybe that was why he went riding to do some hunting, planning to get a stag or two, keep most of the meat, and trade in the furs, but before he even got to the edge of his property he stumbled across something, a horse to be exact.

But not just any horse.

It was a beautiful mustang, with a tawny coat and a black mane and tail.

Usually, he would admire it, maybe even sit, and watch it for a while but this time he did neither because it was not on his land in the usual manner.

The horse was laid out on its side, sides heaving, and coat stained with blood on its shoulder where something had pierced its skin. Some asshole standing over it and cackling like it was the best day of his life, holding a repeater in his hands.

Horse skinning had become a problem in the last few years, some fewer savory characters finding that it was easier to obtain and they could get more of it to sell.

The butcher in Blackwater had been complaining about it in recent weeks, about the sudden influx he had been receiving of horse meat and horsehide.

John understood people had to do what they had to do but hunting wild horses, just for their hides when they were already on a slow decline with the U.S. Army and the railway quickly capturing and breaking them, wasn’t something John would stand for.

He might not have been a good man, but he had standards.

Pulling the gun from his hip he cocked it, making the man standing over the mustang freeze and then spin around “this here is my kill, away with ya” he said his mouth filled with half-rotted teeth that had johns lips twisting in disgust.

“the way I see it” he rasped, pulling back the hammer on his gun “you're on my property, so that’s my horse” the man snarled “I done ran it here from cross the river, been tracking it near three days!”

It made sense, horse killed was especially frowned upon in new Austin “get off my property” john said simply, and the man snarled reaching to aim his repeater but didn’t have a chance.

His mount ol’ boy snorted at the sound of his revolver firing and the mustang squealed in fright, but the poacher fell backward, half of his skull missing.

Clicking his tongue he dismounted his horse and approached the mustang, holding up his hands and shushing it as he approached “easy now easy, I ain’t gonna hurt ya” he soothed the horse that watched him with distrustful but pained intelligent eyes.

As he got closer, he was glad he had saved the horse or at least that he was attempting to save it, because it had blue eyes.

Blue eyes were rare in most breeds of horse, but they were almost unheard of in mustangs.

“Easy, easy” he continued to soothe while kneeling at the horse's side, careful of its striking hooves slowly he reached out and laid his hand on its neck, hearing it snort a few times and feeling how fast its heart was racing.

He smoothed his hand along its sweaty neck a few times “easy, your alright” he muttered while looking at its injured shoulder, the man's bullet had dug a clear path through its skin, going in at an angle, john pushed himself up to see an exit wound higher on the shoulder, the bullet thankfully not still in the wound.

Sitting back down he reached back for the lasso attached to his belt, insuring it was there and the horse started to struggle again “whoa, whoa easy now, I ain’t gonna hurt ya” he carefully took his hands away from the coil of rope, keeping an eye on both the horses bared teeth and its twitching hooves and not giving up as he slowly moved around the horse to its back.

“Easy now, I’m gonna help ya but ya gotta get on your feet first” placing his hands onto the stallion's back and put pressure on it, encouraging the horse to roll over, even as it squealed in pain.

Clicking his tongue, he gave the beast a shove and it snorted in alarm, standing up as the horse got its feet under it and backing away as it levered itself up.

Its massive head dropped down and its legs balked out, mouth open as it panted.

“easy, you did good boy” he praised the horse whose ears flicked toward him, and then its head shot up, staring at him with wide eyes as he reached back and pulled his lasso from his belt, pulling out a length of it.

The horse tried to step away when he approached but it stumbled and squealed again “whoa, whoa, I've got you, said I was gonna help ya didn’t I?” he kept his voice as soft as it would get, which wasn’t very soft given the raspy nature of it.

Slowly he approached the beast which laid its ears back “easy, it's ok” he continued to soothe, watching its teeth and its ears, glad when one of them tipped forward to listen to him “that’s it, boy, come on” he reached out and laid the rope over its neck, carefully reaching around the other side to grasp the end and tie it in a simple but sturdy knot to make a lead.

“that’s it, good job” he praised and stepped back a bit “come on, I’ll help ya but you gotta follow me” he instructed and tugged lightly at the rope, keeping just enough tension on it to let the beast know what he wanted.

Snorting the mustang took a single slow step, followed by another slow step and he encouraged it the entire time. Stopping only to click his tongue at ol’ boy who had stopped to graze while john risked his flesh for the injured horse.

Which seemed to relax as the massive beast walked along on john’s other side.

It took a while to get back to his ranch with their slow pace but they hadn’t been that far to begin with and the mustang, apparently realizing john meant it no harm, followed him without resisting even as it limped and clearly was in pain.

“atta boy” he praised when they got to his barn and the horse only balked for a moment before stepping inside, stepping into an empty but large stall easier given the fact that it had fresh water in it along with some feed.

John removed the rope from the beast's neck and stepped away, patting ol' boys neck when the horse snorted at the fact the mustang was in HIS stall “don’t get pouty” he told the gelding and quickly stripped him of his tack, turning him out to the field before grabbing some salve and bandages from a shelf along with a cloth to clean the blood from the injury.

Returning to the stall he found the mustang drinking deeply from the water troth but it stopped and lifted its head when he appeared “easy” he soothed on instinct “just gonna look at your shoulder” the horse snorted, ears flattening before looking away, nibbling at some of the feed.

Taking that as the best change and all the permission he was going to get, he stepped into the stall and dumped water from a canteen onto the rag, carefully cleaning around the injuries on the horse’s shoulder before grabbing the salve.

He packed the injury with it, hearing the horse groan either in pain or relief before bandaging the injury to keep the flies away from it.

Damned things could make the simplest injuries deadly.

Once the injury was tended he slowly backed out of the stall, latching the gate behind him, and then he just stood there and watched the horse who lost interest in the feed and started sniffing around the stall before finding the perfect spot and dropping to its belly.

John was concerned for a moment until he saw the beast sigh and lay its head down, breathing in great gusts and closing its blue eyes to rest.

Slowly he left the barn and went into the house, some strange feeling following him that he couldn’t quite name.

Like something wasn’t what it seemed.

He shrugged it off as being in the sun for too long and went about making himself an early dinner.

It was fine.

~

Come morning john checked on the mustang who was back on its feet and fisty snapping at john and tugging his overly long hair when he tried to check its injury, not so much to be mean as he simply seemed to enjoy it.

“you’re an asshole” he said for the third time, finally lifting the bandage to see the injury looked much better.

Hissing when the horse twisted its head around and bit down on his hand, he glared at the beast's amused and far too intelligent blue eyes.

“I need that” he said making the horse snort and let go, leaving an indent on his hand that might well bruise.

He always knew mustangs were assholes he just never thought he’d have to deal with one like this.

Growling he marched to the stall door and opened it “out with ya!” he said and pointed at the pasture the mustang lifting its head high and walking, albeit with a limp, toward the door, sniffing around a bit before going out to graze with the other horses.

Leaving John to clean up his crap.

“See what happens when ya help something Marston” he said to himself as he got to work mucking out the stall “ya save a life and end up cleaning up that life’s steamin piles of shit”

A chuckle from the door had him looking up “talking to yourself again john?” a large dark-skinned man stood at the barns open door looking at him with amusement “Charles” he smiled and turned toward his friend, forgetting about the job on hand for a moment.

“When did you get here?” he asked walking up to hug the man “a few days ago, I was helping Sadie with a contract around strawberry and thought I’d come to check on you” they separated and walked out of the barn.

The man's horse was hitched not far away, the pretty paint snorting in greeting when John walked up to pat her shoulder “well, I’m still alive” he said before turning his head to see the mustang standing nearby, watching them.

Noticing john’s attention, the horse snorted and went back to grazing “new horse?” Charles asked, also looking at the beast, and john hummed “found em on the edge of my property, some asshole was looking to skin em”

He heard his friend rumble in distaste from his side before humming “ya know, they say the spirit of the west lives in the mustang, that it's why they're so hard to tame” john snorted and rubbed his hand where a bruise was indeed already starting to form “I can believe it”

He looked back at the mustang who was again watching them and this time it didn’t look away.

~

Charles stayed the night, helping john with the chores and drinking with him but he had to leave the next morning, and while it was good to have some company it almost wasn’t worth what happened after.

Breaking away from his old life when everything fell apart had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, second only to watching Abigail leave with their son, looking for a better life he knew he couldn’t provide for them.

Not with his far too recognizable face.

He didn’t get much company and usually, he was fine with it, but it was always just after he had company that he realized how much he hated being alone.

It put him in a weird mood where all he really wanted to do was stay in bed but life on a ranch didn’t allow that, staying in bed meant the animals didn’t get fed or watered, meant ripe vegetables were susceptible to animals or rot.

He had responsibilities no matter how much he wanted to ignore them.

So after Charles left he made himself go about the chores, sending the horses out to pasture, even the asshole mustang, mucking stalls, feeding chickens, checking the garden even though he knew nothing would be ripe yet, and doing a bit of weeding.

Things that usually left him feeling peaceful but that currently made him feel the void of companionship all the more.

John didn’t usually like people.

But he didn’t want to be alone either.

It was well past noon when he finished the chores, his dog Rufus having long retired to the shade of the porch while john worked in the sun.

An eagle screeched from the sky, making him look up, tracking the bird across the cloudless expanse of blue before lowering his head, taking off his hat to wipe his forehead before putting it back on his tangled mess of hair.

It was getting long even for him, he probably needed to get it trimmed soon.

Sighing he looked out at the pasture, finding ol' boy napping in the shade and his two other horses, a shire mare, and thoroughbred grazing with a couple of cows but the mustang wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Frowning john looked closer before walking towards the barn, suspecting the asshole of a horse to have retreated into the cool space. Usually, John would leave it be, especially since the horse was wild and he wanted to keep it wild until it had recovered enough to be released but he hadn’t checked its bandage yet.

He hadn’t been in the mood to deal with another bruise at the start of the chores, but he’d put it off long enough.

Opening the barn door, he slipped into the cool space, sighing in relief, and rolling his shoulders before looking around, hearing rustling from the mustang’s stall.

Fucker probably laid down for a nap.

“Alright asshole, think you can resist taking a bite outta me so’s I can check yer shoulder?” he said to nothing, approaching the stall and laying a hand on the gate, not really looking until he didn’t hear the mustangs usual snort,

Looking around he suddenly froze as the horse wasn’t in the stall.

Not to say that the stall was empty though because the figure stretched out in the hay was anything but nothing.

A man laid in front of john, arms crossed behind his head of honey brown hair and ankles crossed, a dusting of hair covered his broad chest and his long legs, led in a path straight to the very exposed nakedness of him.

John felt his mouth sag open with shock, not so much at the man’s nakedness as at the man’s existence.

Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes, blinking hard and believing the sun really was getting to him until he found the man still lying there, breathing peacefully, and chewing on a piece of straw, relaxed as could be.

“what the fuck!” he finally found his voice and the man opened one of his eyes, lifting a heavy brow in vague curiosity and pinning john with his gaze.

His eyes were so blue they almost glowed.

The man grunted before closing the eye again and shifting around a bit, swapping the straw to the other side of his mouth “who the hell are you?” john demanded, wishing he walked around his own property armed.

The man sighed as if John was the one in the wrong for disturbing his nap “I gotta lot of names” the man drawled, words touched with a honey-sweet accent john had never heard before “the spirit of the west wind, the living history of the west, the spirit who couldn’t be broken, but most recently”

His eyes opened and pinned john in place, seeming to cut straight through him “someone has taken to calling me asshole” his lips twitched up in amusement and john could only blink stupidly at the man who closed his eyes again “I've come to prefer the name ‘Arthur’ thought”

“a’ight, Arthur” john said and clenched his fists “bullshit, horses don’t turn into humans” the man snorted in amusement “who said I was human?”

John frowned “if ya ain’t human then what the hell is ya?”

“something else” the man shrugged and then sighed unfolding his arms and removing the straw from his mouth before pushing himself up, grunting as he slowly got to his feet and john felt his mouth go dry as the man looked at him.

Slowly the man walked forward, and john realized just how big he was, dense muscle shifting under his skin with every step. He was taller than John by a good few inches as well.

“your friend saw this” Arthur said, and John felt himself stumbling backward, the man following him until John came to a stop, back pressed against the door of the stall behind him.

Arthur reached forward and laid a hand on the stall beside john pinning him in and watching him with far too intelligent eyes “you don’t believe me?” he questioned, and john felt himself snort “would you? Ain’t no way a horse can turn into a man”

The blonde snorted and turned his head, lips quirking in amusement, john noticed his hair had pieces of straw in it, ain’t no ghost or hallucination gonna have a small detail like that in it.

“whether I exist or don’t, you saved my life” he looked back at john, blue eyes stealing johns breath “I carry the mark to prove that” the man's other hand lifted, just shy of touching john before touching his own shoulder, drawing johns eyes to a fresh pink scar in the middle of it.

Slowly the man ducked his head growing closer to john who held his breath, his eyes wide as he stared, he was so close, john could smell the scent of him, sun-warmed valleys and rushing rivers, the planes of wildflowers and horseflesh.

Just as John started to wonder if the man was going to kiss him, or bite him if he was really that mustang, he spoke, words whispered against the side of John's face “I am grateful to you for that” and then he was gone.

Gasping like he only just remembered how to breathe he watched as the man turned away walking for a moment before glancing back and smirking, catching John's eyes wandering, and in the time between one blink and the next where the man stood a horse now existed.

The beast was looking at him and john swore it too was smirking before it snorted and walked out of the barn, flicking his tail as if nothing had happened and trotting out of the yard, disappearing into the trees as if it had never existed.

Slowly john lowered his head into his hands “I’m going crazy” he muttered before walking toward the house where he firmly closed the door.

Deciding it would be best to turn in early for the night.

Come morning nothing seemed different, but he still looked over his shoulder every few minutes, even though there was no sign of the mustang either in the barn or in the pasture or the yard and he didn’t want to go looking.

Just as he started to think that the entire thing was all a hallucination and the horse had jumped the fence the previous day something snorted from behind him. He spun around, expecting to see a horse but it was a man, standing with hands on hips and smirking down at him.

So, john punched him.

Arthur stumbled back a step and lifted a hand to cup his jaw, not looking hurt so much as annoyed “the hell?” he rumbled in question as john shook his now aching hand “well, either your real or I really is crazy” he muttered and Arthur snorted “no more than you usually are” he sounded amused.

Asshole.

Huffing john turned away and walked toward the house, just knowing Arthur was following him even though he couldn’t hear him moving “what are you doing here?” he asked and glanced back to see Arthur shrug “you intrigue me, a human living alone, helping a wild horse that very well could kill ya with no intentions of keeping it after it heals”

Arthur leaned on the porch railing as john took off his boots “I've known a lot of your kind in my life but never someone quite like you”

Sighing John leaned his head back looking at the sky for a moment before turning to face the man “we all have our quirks” he said and opened the door, pausing in the doorway before glancing back “ya might as well come in, neighbors don’t need any more of a fright than I've already given em”

He turned away before he could focus on the man’s smirk and what it might mean.

~

John's life settled into a new kind of unusual after that, Arthur showed up randomly, especially on windy days, and even when he didn’t appear john felt like he was being watched.

Usually, something like this would make john twitchy, but as time went on, he just accepted it and even found comfort in it, especially on days when everything was just too quiet, letters received from new York weighing heavy on his mind.

On nights when the world was too quiet.

One such night he couldn’t sleep and walked out of his house, crickets chirped in the distance and he could hear gentle snorting from the pasture.

Rufus lifted his head to sniff at him from his spot on the porch but seeing john held no urgency the dog went back to sleep.

Slowly john left the porch, walking toward the pasture and he found a man lying there.

He wasn’t surprised by this and sighed quietly, jumping the fence, and walking toward him, patting ol' boy as he passed, the stallion huffing a greeting and nudging his shoulder before returning to his midnight grazing.

Slowly he walked to Arthur and slowly he sat down at his side, watching him but the man didn’t look at john, instead looking at the sky and the stars the glimmered in the distance, interrupted only by a single owl, gliding silently by and searching for mice.

John wanted to ask why he was laying out here, wanted to ask why he was even here so late but he didn’t, rather he just looking up himself, feeling the heaviness slowly face from his chest “can’t sleep” Arthur finally spoke and john lowered his face “it’s too quiet”

The figure beside him made a sound, close to a hum but not quite “it ain’t quiet” john looked down to see Arthur close his eyes “the wind is rustling the trees” he said quietly and john blinked at him in surprise.

“The crickets are singing, and there’s a fox in the brush, hunting mice” he stared at the man's relaxed face as he spoke, admired the rugged handsome lines of it, the way his skin almost glowed even in the light of the moon.

Hands folded behind his head and a knee lifted to hide his junk he blinked back up to Arthur's face to see his eyes squinted open and his lips quirked into a soft smile “it's not quiet, you're just not listening right”

John looked away, feeling himself flush before sighing and flopping back onto the grass, cold with the evening chill, and closed his own eyes, folding his hands and trying to hear what Arthur heard.

“relax” the word was breathed against his ear, making his body twitch as warm breath gusted against the side of his face “it's there, just listen” a gentle gust of wind blew and made his hair tickle his face.

His brow slowly relaxed as he listened and heard the rustling of the trees, the chirping of not just one fox but a family of them, the gentle puffing from the animals around him, and cricket song.

And breathing from his side.

Things he had never heard before, never let himself stop to listen to.

It wasn’t anything like the noise of the day or the chatter of his old life, but it was noise all the same.

A hand on his chest had him opening his eyes slowly, looking at Arthur who now leaned over him, close as he had been that day in the barn but unlike that day in the barn the thought that the man looked like he was going to kiss him wasn’t panicked.

Hell, john didn’t feel anything aside from peaceful at the moment watching the creatures face as its eyes tracked across his own, lingering on his scars for a moment before he lifted his hand from johns chest, laying it against his cheek and tracing the deep marks in a touch so light it almost tickled the dead nerves.

And then Arthur lowered himself and kissed him.

Arthur's lips were warm and chapped and he tasted like a summer day, and mint which was a strange combination but not something he would argue about, he kind of liked it.

As they separated john felt the other nudge at him, resting their heads together.

Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed he met softly glimmering blue eyes, the shade of the western sky “can I have you” john blinked slowly at the quiet request and reached out, tugging the man closer “yes” he replied and kissed him again, hands gliding over the long lines of warm skin above him.

He didn’t even care that they were in the pasture only hummed in approval when Arthur shifted and laid on top of him, boxing him in with his arms as they kissed before pulling away.

Slowly the man pulled the clothes from johns’ body until he laid naked in the grass, pale skin glimmering in the night.

Arthur shifted away to look at him humming in approval before ducking down, kissing at johns belly as he settled between his pale thighs, nipping at johns hip and then turning his head, nibbling at the inside of his thigh opening his eyes to glance up at johns flushing face as the brunet squirmed.

“Arthur” he muttered before feeling the man's hand shift forward to palm John's cock, pressing it against his belly before dropping down, licking a stripe between john’s cheeks and over his hole.

John whined, making the mistake of looking down at the other man between his thighs who was still watching him, meeting his eyes as Arthur's tongue pressed against his hole and making him groan, head falling back and lifting his hips.

The warmth of pleasure pooled in his middle, warming him as the other's tongue slipped slowly inside of him, an odd feeling but one he thoroughly enjoyed, whining, and shifting his hips, fingers digging into the soft earth under his hands.

Eventually, Arthur backed away, leaving john to whimper before spit slicked fingers slipped inside of him, stretching him as Arthur sat back, one hand on johns knee to keep his legs spread while he watched john, watched the way his cock twitched and his hips lifted, the way his flush had spread down his chest.

The way John's back bowed as he hit that spot inside of him that made John's entire body feel warm before shifting forward, claiming John's lips once again.

John lifted his arms, throwing them over Arthur's shoulders and threading his fingers into soft strands of golden hair, leaning his head back to whine when Arthur hit that spot again before opening his eyes to look blearily up at Arthur “please” he whined, lifting his legs to squeeze Arthur's hips between his knees.

The man hummed and slowly pulled his fingers away but john didn’t have time to miss them as something else pressed against him making him clench his jaw and spread his legs further, hissing as Arthur seated himself slowly inside of john, the stretch burning.

Arthur waited for him to relax again, nudging the underside of his jaw and kissing gently at John's throat until his pained hiss was replaced by a pleasured sigh, john using his grip on the others hair to lift him for a slick slide of lips.

Slowly the blonde started thrusting, his thickness making john gasp and moan and grip at his shoulders and back, Arthur propping himself up on his elbows and pinned john with his weight.

“I want you” he rumbled against johns ear “in every way you’ll let me have you” a particularly hard thrust had johns head falling back against the ground a soft cry leaving his lips and fingers digging into the muscle of Arthur's back “yes” he gasped eyes shooting open to stare up at the star-covered sky.

Heat building in his guts and warning him that he was growing close as Arthur slammed into him.

“yes, please, just like that” he moaned listening to the blonde grunt as he thrust, the slick slap of their skin as they come together over and over again.

The wind was picking up around them, shifting their hair and carrying the sounds they made into the night. Arthur lifted his head from John's throat and sank his fingers into his hair, pulling John's head back and watching his face, his clenched eyes and slack mouth, listened to the sounds john didn’t try to keep from leaving his throat.

“look at me” he rumbled and john fought to open his eyes, fought to look at the man but his effort was rewarded as Arthur shifted his hips to hit that spot his eyes growing wide and jaw clenching as Arthur pounded against it “shit, shit, oh fuck” he moaned as his orgasm grew all the closer, his cock throbbing with it.

Arthur chuckled above him, wind drifting through his hair and face flushed, glimmering eyes darkened with lust and he looked like a wild beast “say my name” he said, and John swallowed, throat working as he was so very close.

He wasn’t even sure he would be able to speak, he could hardly remember his own name let alone the others.

Slowly Arthur lowered his face, pressing their heads together “say it, and I'll give you pleasure as you’ve never felt before” he thrust deep and stayed there, his hips stilling and making john whine, so very close and yet not quite there yet.

“say it” he said and john finally broke “spirit of the western wind” the words came to him unbidden “history of the west, one who could not be broken, fuck, Arthur! please” he begged, arms shaking with how tight he held the other “I’m so close” he sobbed and heard the blonde hum in approval.

“as you wish” he rumbled and shifted back, pulling nearly completely out before thrusting back in hard, slamming against that spot, and johns back arched, mouth open as warmth surrounded him, a high pitched sound leaving him before his body began to shutter, legs clenching around strong hips and fingers clawing at a strong back.

He spilled over his belly, abdomen clenching and throat raw from the scream he let out, body shaking as he fell back and his arms slacked to fall to the ground beside him, moaning weakly as Arthur continued to thrust before going still, ducking and moaning against johns throat as he filled john.

Another weak wave of pleasure rolled through John's body as he did, but after that everything was silent, and his awareness faded, his last distant thought being that he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.


End file.
